Pulling the trigger

Over the past few years I have developed an increasing amount of PTSD and anxiety, so much so, that I would end up at least every other week in the emergency room because I thought I was having a heart attack. The symptoms mimicked one so well. I really thought it was the end of me.

January of this year ended all of that. I had very expensive tests done to make sure what I was dealing with was truly my anxiety. I have spent a good part of the year working on removing anything that causes me any undue amount of stress or consternation. That meant that I had to walk away from relationships and friendships, and it wasn't easy. For a good bit of my life I always needed answers to my "why's", knowing I may never get them, but pressing for them anyway. The need to know was slowing killing me, mentally and physically. It needed to stop.

Training oneself to rethink and act after 40 plus years is a challenge. But it was a challenge I was willing to take on. Most days I can accept the provocation; most days I'm defeated. I've made it known to anyone in my life what I will and will not entertain. Some people respect this, others not so much. The difficulty I am having, is the more I find the old me, the less people want to be around me. I'm okay with that, especially if it means I have peace. You see the old me would never let anyone use her as a doormat, would never let herself become afraid of what others thought, never let another human being tell her what she's worth. I've allowed all those things to happen simply because I feared being alone, friendless and without family. Fear caused me to lose the most important thing, me!

Slowly, very slowly, things are falling into place. The hiccups of this transformation have been annoying at the least, but not debilitating. I'm still a work in progress, and will be until it's time for my journey. The rest of my life will not be lived with discord of any kind.

In September, I walked (okay ran) away from a 30 year friendship, and it didn't even hurt. It was long overdue. I have no regrets in doing so, and don't think I ever will if I needed to do it again with another person. Pulling the trigger isn't easy, but it's necessary, no matter who is on the other end.

When your peace is the price you have to pay to maintain having someone in your life, it's not worth it.

Clinging to Condemnation

I'm sorry I am not everything you'd thought I would be. It seems like, when I have tried to do anything within my capabilities to make you proud, all I did was fail. I have probably failed myself more than I did you! I hope that when you do think of me that there is at least one positive thing you remember. I have tried to go back and find the point in my life when things completely changed, when you decided I was no longer worth your time or effort.
The reality of my past and the awful things I did, continue to haunt me and label me as the horrible person I was. I live with those consequences daily. The reminder seats itself consistently in front of my face. Although, I can not recall ever asking it to remain in my present or find a place in my future. The truth is, I'm not the one who is picking it up and putting it before me like a ritual offering, everyday. Those I've trusted, loved and cared for find amusement in my wrong doings. Like the rest of the world, the negative seems better than the positive change.
Do you see it? The changes, the good? Or are you as equally blind as the others to your own sins that you find comfort in my transgressions? We are our own worst enemy and critic. Therefore, I don't need your fingers pointing and reminding me of my imperfections.
It breaks my heart to know that when each day ends, you go to bed holding on to something I've so desperately tried to let go. We are beyond repair at this point. I smile when I see you. I close my ears when I hear the whispers. But I walk with my eyes wide open so that I can see the distorted world you live in because of me.
Forgiveness is easy, yet you choose to cling to my condemnation. I ask no favors of you. You owe me nothing. In the end, MY favor, MY morals, MY past and MY sins will be questioned, but not by you and they will only be answered by me.
Sometimes the reflection in the mirror is a truth we don't want to see!

Alien Seen Ice Skating Across the Sun!!

I know it's early, but this has happened 3 times already and I am going to rant about it. People need to really learn to read beyond the headline of an article. I'm sure most of us have had an English course at some point in our lives and were told that if we write about something have a "catchy" headline, something to draw in the audiences attention. What I see, is that people read that headline and take it for what it is, and not the meat of the story. When I come across people like this, the headline only readers, it makes me wonder if they do that to other individuals. Can you only look at a
person and feel you really know them? Do you base how they look on how you think they will act? It is sad to know that that is how society has remained, always judging a book by its cover. What incredible stories do you miss by not delving into what could possibly be a great read. I'm guilty of this on occasion, but what I am not guilty of is vocalizing this judgement publicly and making a fool of myself.
I saw an article about a football coach leaving his team for another, I know the person who posted it and knew that it was likely a joke. I clicked the article, and indeed it was. Being the humorous person that I am, I decided to share said article with some friends, and as with the original article, mine too was judge based on the headline.
Honestly, when we do things like this we show the world our true personality. We show them that we have no discernment. Shit can come wrapped in a pretty package, does that mean its good?
I know my words will fall on deaf ears, and I'm okay with that, they usually do, but I am hoping that people will wake up and look beyond the facade and really get to know what you are reading or seeing. You could very well miss something fantastically wonderful if you don't.
Like that alien seen ice skating on the sun!

Just Another Pretty Face in the Crowd

It was November 18, 1989 and I found myself at an abortion clinic in downtown Birmingham, Alabama. Scared. Crying. I was 16 years old. I walked through a crowd of protesters, who felt the need to call me some pretty horrible names and shove pictures in my face of aborted fetuses. Throwing pamphlets at me, I don't know what was written on them, I can only guess but I'm sure it was more photos. By the time I hit the door of the clinic, I was escorted in by one of Birmingham's finest. Yes, a police escort was necessary to walk into the clinic. Picture if you will a very dimly lit place, I scanned the room of unknown faces. Sad faces. Angry faces. The lady at the desk was not a polite woman, I guess you harden yourself if you work at a place like that. You would have to. She had me fill out paperwork and when I returned it, she handed me a gown and said "change and have a seat". My boyfriend, his mother and my mom were there with me. Not sure if they were offering moral support, or making sure I went through with the abortion. You see, it was not what I wanted, not at all. At the time my mom was a single mom herself, trying to raise me and my brother on a very meager salary. I knew she couldn't help me raise a child. I knew Brett couldn't help me. He stayed in trouble a lot. In my mind, it was the only option I had. "Lisa", she called me. My heart sank into my stomach and then stuck in my throat. I couldn't move, didn't want to move. I didn't want this scenario to be real. I just knew I would wake up any minute and it would be a dream. Nope. I walked into a room, all white. "We have to do an ultrasound to see how far along you are". I nodded. "Hmm", she said. "How far along do you think you are?" "Three, maybe 4 months". "Nope, you're 6 months. We can't do the termination here, I can give you the address of places in Atlanta or Arkansas and you can go there." With that, she got up, and walked out of the room. I screamed on the inside. There was no way I was that far along, no way. After I dressed and left the room and told my mom what they said. We walked out. Went our separate ways.
My grandfather was a barber at UAB and had been for longer than I had been alive at that time. He was cutting the hair of a doctor and told him my story. The doctor had told him about an attorney he knew that did adoptions and got us in contact with him. We met him at Shoney's and he talked to me about all of my options regarding the adoption process. I had 2 weeks to decide. It was almost Christmas when I made my decision to place that baby up for adoption. January 18, 1990, I was at Medical Center East sitting in Dr. Dollar's office and he wanted to do another ultrasound. (This is the same doctor that my grandfather knew, who kinda started this process). It also happen to be my birthday. A somber birthday, but one I will never forget. The lady that was doing the US was so very sweet. She smiled, I cried. She comforted me, I still cried. She said "honey, you're 6 months along. That puts your due date in April". Wait, what? No, in November I was 6 months. This is where I witnessed for the first time ever, divine intervention. It was the only way I could be 6 months pregnant two months in a row.
On April 10, 1990 I delivered a baby girl. I have one picture of her from the hospital.She was adopted by a family that had strong christian values. The lady had tried more times than not to have a baby on her own, only to lose them in her third trimester or be stillborn. They said they didn't care what she looked like, if she was sick, or if she was healthy. They wanted a baby.
For 24 years I have secretly searched every face in the crowd wondering "is that her". It was comforting knowing that I made the right decision but heart wrenching as well. I often wonder what she's doing. If she looks like me or her dad. How her life has turned out so far.
I don't regret any of the decisions I made regarding her. None. I have a hard time at Christmas and on her birthday. It's almost as if I mourn a little. I squeeze my babies a little too tight at those times.
I found out on New Year's Eve of 2013 that her biological dad had died in a car accident in July of 2006. I was heart broken. Heart broken because I knew she wouldn't have a chance to meet him. When we parted ways at the hospital that day, I didn't have contact with Brett. I saw him 2 years later at a gas station with some girl and couldn't bring myself to say hello. The last time I spoke to him was in 1996, very briefly in the parking lot of a Wal-Mart. We remained friendly, but he never brought up our baby girl. It was probably for the best.
I do hold out hope that one day our paths will cross. Until then, I will constantly search the crowds for a familiar face.

Don't just make resolutions for the year, make them for life.

RESOLUTION:

1. process of resolving: the process of resolving something such as a problem or dispute
2. decision: a firm decision to do something
3. determination: firmness of mind or purpose

BY DEFINITION....THIS IS WHAT I INTEND TO DO!

I have always thought making a New Year's Resolution was silly. In the back of my mind it never made sense to make one. Looking at the three possible definitions, its clear that maybe I should make some. 

 Sometimes to resolve a problem you can either eliminate that problem or fix it. Well, after many attempts to fix, "be the better person", tolerate and anger myself, I feel that now its best that I just completely avoid this situation all together. Sometimes avoiding things means you have to turn your back on people, don't regret or feel bad for doing this. If those people had any intentions of changing, you wouldn't have to walk away from them. Sometimes turning your back and avoiding them not only protects you but it protects the dynamics of your family. The "problem"; I am ridding myself, and immediate family from them/it. This isn't as easy as it sounds because often its people or things that you are related or close to you. I have become quite good at avoiding or ignoring people/things that I don't want in my life. I think this has come with age. I've held my tongue far more often than I should. It's not healthy to constantly deal with the monstrosities in your life. Mine have made me bitter, hateful and mean...to myself. I have projected these feelings on my kids and its not good. It has made me hate people, children included.
It's hard not to have hateful feelings toward some of these people because no matter how much you want to believe they will change, or do better, they don't. I see a horrible outcome and future for them, something I don't want to be associated with. 

With a New Year comes a chance for a New LIFE! The decision to do this was an easy one. It only takes getting knocked down, verbally and physically, to see the situation isn't good for you. I think when you allow people to hold you back you die a little. People only hold you back when they feel inadequate. I have family that does this, sad but its true. (I won't name names). What is even more hurtful is when these people can't stand to see you doing better than them, they feel like they are in competition with you. Walk away. That is what I have to do for my sanity and my children's well being. These people/things are poisonous to us. 

As a child, I was always told that I'm a very determined girl. I still am. Just older, maybe a little wiser, definitely stronger. 

I am determined to make the rest of my life better each year. The unfortunate thing, for some, is they won't be around to see it. Their fault, because I tried. 

I end with this. If you look at the definition of resolution (see above) you will see it is a process, a decision and determination to do what it takes to make YOU better. So, I resolve to not deal with what causes me problems, only what makes me happy. I resolve to make better decisions for myself and my family, even if it means walking away from people/things. I resolve to keep my determination and never again let someone be hateful  to me, my children or say things that are inappropriate to my family. EVER. With that determination, I will no longer hold my tongue, but say what I feel. 

I hope everyone has a fantastic year, but don't just make resolutions for the year, make them for life.

The measure of this woman

I have been told too many times to even begin to count how pretty, beautiful, attractive, and whatever other adjective you want to add, I am. Seems that others always see something in us that, we, ourselves do not. You see, when I look in the mirror, I see bruises, scratches, scrapes, swollen eyes and a fractured face, I see pain. It's difficult to believe that anyone can't see what I do, because I walk around with these outward scars, although the internal ones run much deeper, everyday. Make-up has become my best friend, she keeps my stories secret, she doesn't spill out my hurt, she helps hide it. They say the best way to rid your pain is to tell your story, I have, numerous times. I have spoken to battered women, to teenage girls and boys, to people who had never dealt with abuse at all. 
I don't like that I have stories to tell, yes stories, plural, because there are many, committed by the hands of someone I loved and thought loved me. There are times I believe all the lies he told me, that I am stupid, that I am difficult to love, hard to please, a bitch....the best one, I deserve what happen to me, what he did to me, the abuse. If you asked me how do I describe myself, how do I measure my worth....I can't completely answer that question. Its not the adjectives other people use. I measure myself not by what I look like but how I have survived, how I have lived. I have wonderful children, a nice house, people in my life that support and nurture me. I wake up grateful to take another breath, to be able to enjoy the day ahead and see the faces of those who love me without condition. I don't always wake up feeling "wonderful", I still have days when it's almost unbearable to get out of bed, but there are people depending on me. 
I thank those who have given compliments, whether sincere or not, I appreciate your kindness, my looks don't measure me or make me. 
My beauty faded with fists. 
The measure of this woman, the value of me, my worth....that is not complete, I'm not finished with this life, but in the end I want people to say "She was a great mom", "She is an awesome friend", "you could count on her"....not she was beautiful. 

Never enough time and too soon

Every time I hear any Metallica song I am reminded of him. Luis was the one person who could look at my smiling face and know that something was wrong. He knew the real smile from the fake. When my whole world was falling apart, his heart knew, even miles away. It was like he was part of me, part of my soul. Every now and then I feel him, a touch on my shoulder, a gentle hand wiping away my tears, holding my heart to keep it from falling to pieces, keeps me from falling to pieces. He was my stabilizer, my rock, my foundation. And all those things he was to me, I couldn't be for him. Why? I was young and stupid. I begged God to bring him back, I cried to Him to please bring back my Angel. But it was too late. They kept telling me I would forget about him over time and my heart would heal, things would get easier. Liars. It still hurts. I am strong because of him. I love because of him. And he's gone. The reality of that never goes away. My heart loves him, that will never change no matter who is in my life. I hold my memories of him. He was a casualty for what he loved, his country. 

"Never enough time" was always my excuse and then he was gone too soon. 

Miss you shipmate.